


'cause hell's broke loose in SoHo, and the devil deals the cards

by thealienmeme



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Established Relationship, Ghost Hunting, M/M, She/Her Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), but only for a second, crowley is an ansty boi, mentions of fiddle, this whole thing is very Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:15:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22831633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealienmeme/pseuds/thealienmeme
Summary: crowley invites paranormal investigators over to the bookshop thinking it will be hilarious and aziraphale is vaguely annoyed by this, but lets it happen, anyways, because just like crowley, aziraphale can't seem to say "no"
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 89





	'cause hell's broke loose in SoHo, and the devil deals the cards

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to kaleigh for asking specifically for this fic!!!!

One night, on one of the very rare occasions that he found himself back in his drab Mayfair apartment, Crowley decided to turn on the TV. The bookshop didn’t have a TV and that’s exactly how Aziraphale liked it, which meant Crowley didn’t get to watch a lot of it these days.*

*Not that he minded. They typically found themselves… otherwise occupied most of the time. Going out to dinner, taking walks in the park, and seeing the sights of the world they saved, of course. 

He began flipping through the channels haphazardly, catching milliseconds of a multitude of shows as he went - the beginning of a particularly juicy episode of Keeping Up with the Kardashians, a probably heartfelt and wholesome episode of The Good Place, Gordon Ramsey screaming at someone, you get the picture. 

As he was skipping through, he noticed a man being filmed with what must have been a night-vision camera screaming the word “DEMONS!” Pausing to make sure he heard that correctly, Crowley flipped back to the channel and set the remote down gingerly next to his leg. 

_ Oh, this ought to be RICH _ , Crowley thought to himself as he conjured up a glass of wine and settled into his leather couch. 

________________________________________________

Six hours later*, Crowley found himself sitting amongst piles of snacks and a few empty bottles of wine as the now-familiar end screen for the show he has come to know as THE GHOSTOLOGY DEPARTMENT plays through. It’s then that he notices the little box with contact information for the “Ghostologists” in the show. 

*What? It was a marathon. 

With a sly grin and a debit card that will never run dry, Crowley pulls out his phone and clicks ‘compose email’, a gesture that has only ever caused havoc. 

________________________________________________

A few days later, Crowley was back at the bookshop and annoying Aziraphale, right where he belonged. 

“I’m just saying, angel, I think it’s very  _ clear _ that they were in love-” 

“Crowley, I will not have this argument with someone who reads People magazine for pleasure.” 

“But I’ve read the classics, Moby Dick included, and you can just tell that Ishmael has strong feelings for the guy… what was his name…” 

“Queequeg.” 

“RIGHT, that’s the lad. Anyways, it’s very obviously a homoerotic relationship. Look at the subtext. Or just the regular text, they literally got married or something.” 

“They were  _ friends _ , dear.” 

“Oh, you mean like we were friends?” 

“Yes, exactly.” 

A pause. 

“Maybe… not the best comparison.” 

Crowley leaned over to give Aziraphale a quick peck on the lips and said, “I think it was.” 

Proud that he had decidedly won the argument, Crowley walked swiftly over to the front windows and pulled up the email that he had received from The Ghostology Department. 

_ To: theDevil_Beelzebub_put_aside@gmail.com _

_ From: ghostology_dept@ghostologist.org  _

_ Subject: House Call _

_ Dear Anthony,  _

_ After doing a bit of preliminary research, we have decided to come visit your bookshop. We found a few reviews online for ‘A.Z. FELL and CO.’ that include the existence of weird, almost sulfuric smells, books moving on their own, and an overall uneasy presence. Expect us next Friday, the 21st at 5 p.m. We’ll need a brief tour before setting up for the night.  _

_ We don’t typically do house calls, but your case seems to be extreme, so we will happily make an exception. _

_ We look forward to seeing you then!  _

Crowley locked his phone as he heard the sound of a van pull up to the front of the bookshop. Out popped three people, all of varying aesthetics. The first was a young man wearing a tie-dye shirt, who was now waving a small camera in the face of one of the other guys, who was wearing a button up and fedora.  _ That one is Brian _ , Crowley thought as his eyes laid on the host of the show who batted the camera away. The third was a girl with long, dark hair, a floor-length skirt, and no less than five crystals immediately noticeable on her person. 

She kind of reminded Crowley of Book Girl. 

It was then that Crowley realized he hadn’t told Aziraphale about his drunken endeavors that lead to emailing a paranormal investigation show just for the opportunity to mess with them. 

_ Well, too late now, _ Crowley shrugged as the doorbell rang. 

“Angel, I’ll get it-” 

“No, no, I’ll see who it is. Maybe it’s my new shipment! I do hear they sometimes do later deliveries and I would hate to miss-” 

Aziraphale was interrupted as a camera was shoved unceremoniously in his face. 

“Uh, hello. How may I assist you?” 

The fedora man, Brian, shoved past Aziraphale, who shot a look at Crowley that said both ‘I’m very confused as to what is happening at this moment’ and ‘But I know you had something to do with it.’ Both looks were endearing. 

“Tonight on The Ghostology Department, a haunted bookshop right in the middle of SoHo? It’s more likely than you think. Demonic smells seeping through the floorboards, customers leaving not knowing why they had gone in the shop in the first place, and a mysterious owner.” 

Aziraphale sputtered. “I’m right here!” 

“Will we find out what plagues these dusty shelves? Or will this bookshop remain cursed? Stick around to find out.” 

Aziraphale turned back to Crowley and mouthed  _ Cursed? _

Crowley simply offered a shrug back. 

As soon as the camera was off, Brian turned around to fully take in the bookshop. “Wow, you were right, this place  _ is _ creepy.” 

With his shop being insulted and his night interrupted, Aziraphale put his foot down. 

“Pardon me, young man, but what  _ exactly _ are you doing in my bookshop?” 

_______________________________________________________

One explanation later, Aziraphale found himself with his arms crossed, watching as the three young people unloaded their equipment into his shop. Crowley stood by his side with a grin so wide it would give Cheshire cat a run for his money. 

“Oh, come on, angel, it’ll be funny,” Crowley said, nudging Aziraphale with his elbow. 

Aziraphale simply exhaled slowly and turned slightly away from Crowley, who slid behind him and put his arms around the angel’s middle. 

“Let me have my fun, please? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” Aziraphale sighed, put his hands over Crowley’s, and gave them a light pat. 

“Alright, dear, if this will make you happy and stop acting like a cat on a hot tin roof, then I will allow it,” Aziraphale said as he turned to give Crowley a kiss on the cheek. 

Crowley smiled, again. He had been feeling a little restless since they no longer had to report to H&H, and this sort of low-level mischief was exactly what the doctor ordered. 

Brian turned and started walking over to them, giving the bookshop another once-over. 

“Alright, our cameras are all set up. We’ll see you guys in the morning, yeah?” 

Aziraphale turned to Crowley as if to say  _ We are not leaving them unattended in my shop _ . Crowley’s answering look said  _ Don’t worry, I have a plan. _

“Yep!” Crowley answered, popping the ‘p.’ “We’ll leave the ghost hunting to the professionals. Me and my husband will be staying at a hotel just down the way. See ya tomorrow morning.” Crowley was lightly pushing Aziraphale out of the shop and closed the door behind them. 

Then he turned to Aziraphale to immediately begin planning. “So, we can just miracle ourselves to not be noticed by them, waltz back into the shop, and boom they’re no longer unattended, you can keep an eye on your books, and I can give them the episode of their dreams. It’ll all work out, you’ll see.” 

But Aziraphale didn’t seem to be paying attention. He had a dreamy look on his face and was gazing wonderingly at Crowley. 

“What? Have I got something on my face?” Crowley asked, touching his cheek instinctively. 

“Husband.” Aziraphale said simply. “You called me your ‘husband.’” 

Crowley began to blush. 

“Oh, I didn’t… I mean… you know, I don’t know what to call you these days. Boyfriend is too casual, partner sounds like we’re cowboys, love of my life and light of my entire existence is much too long and doesn’t really roll of the tongue and I’m rambling, why aren’t you stopping me?” Crowley said, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Aziraphale smiled and pulled Crowley in by his lapels for a kiss. 

“It’s ok, darling, we’ll talk about it, later.” Aziraphale said as he snapped and walked back into the shop. 

Crowley followed, a little dazed, behind him. 

“We have with us tonight recorders to catch any EVPs, EMF meters, and a few static cams set up here in the main area of the shop, on the stairs, in between some shelves, and by the back room,” Brian’s voice trailed from the front parlor area, as Crowley and Aziraphale stood amongst the books and peaked around the shelves. They didn’t need to hide, but the feeling of needing to hide was still there. “I also have some Holy Water with us in case of any demonic entities.” 

The lights went out in the shop and Aziraphale turned to Crowley and said, “Holy Water?! Crowley, I will not have you go near them while they have that. This was all fun and games, but I will not risk your life just to mess with a bunch of misguided 20-somethings.” 

“It’ll be fine, I doubt it’s the real deal, anyways.” Crowley said, brushing Aziraphale off and walking toward the voices. “Now, time to get to work.” 

Crowley snapped and suddenly a fog began seeping through the floorboards. 

“Do you smell that?” Crystal Girl said. “I’m getting strong whiffs of sulfur in this area.” 

She turned to the boy in the tie-dye shirt. 

“This could be our first demon, guys,” Brian whispered before walking into the darkness of the shop. “Do you have a name?” 

“Dustin,” Crowley answered in an ambient voice, trying very hard not to giggle and almost failing. 

“Did you hear that?” Tie-dye guy said to the group. “It said ‘Dustin.’” 

“Dustin?” Crystal Girl looked confused. “Doesn’t sound very demonic to me.” 

“Don’t insult it, Amara!” 

“Would you two be  _ quiet _ ?” Brian snapped. “We could be talking over it.” 

Crowley felt a shiver run down his spine as he changed form. There were three things Crowley knew humans to be absolutely terrified of: dark corners in a room where you can just barely make out if that’s a pile of clothes or a murderer, dolls with cracked faces, and little kids with dead stares. 

Crowley, who now donned pigtails and a 1860s-era dress fit for a child of about 5 or 6 years old, skipped up and down the aisles, giggling as she went. 

She made sure her laughter was heard echoing through the shop before coming to a stop just a little outside of the investigator’s line of vision. 

She peaked around the corner and made eye contact with Tie-Dye Guy, who promptly whipped the camera around and began shouting. 

“Did you guys see that?” He ran over to the shelf, and Crowley stepped back into the shadows. “Did you freakin’  _ see _ that?” 

“What, what is it, Max?” Amara and Brian asked. 

“Th-there, there was a little, like a little girl, right here, right where I’m standing,” Tie-Dye Guy Max stammered. “She was wearing Victorian clothing. I  _ told _ you I heard giggling. Didn’t I tell you, Amara?” 

Amara nodded as she looked, horrified, at the spot Max was pointing. 

“Well, did you get it on camera?” Brian asked. 

Max shook his head. 

“Then it doesn’t matter! Ugh,” Brian threw his hands up as he walked back to where they had been standing. 

Crowley giggled some more. 

Brian’s eyes widened. “Okay, I heard  _ that. _ Where did that come from?” 

Crowley ran across the aisle and right through Brian.

“HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT!” The group scrambled to chase after her. 

Crowley turned a particularly sharp corner and disappeared, again. Right as the group caught up, a few books flew off the shelf and landed on the floor in front of them. 

“Get these out of the way,” Brian ordered Amara and Max. As Amara bent down to pick up a book, Brian stopped her. “What… look at the books that fell.” 

Max picked up a few and began reading titles. “ _ I, Lucifer  _ by Glen Duncan _ ,  _ Dante’s  _ Inferno, Angels and Demons _ by Dan Brown, some book by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pra-” 

“These are all books about demons,” Brian said quietly. “The smell of sulfur, taking the form of a little girl, these books… I think this might actually be a demon.” 

Crowley snickered some more in the corner, shifting back to his regular, lanky form. 

“Did you hear that?” Amara asked. “Laughter. It thinks this is funny.” 

Amara grabbed the Holy Water from Brian’s pocket and uncapped the lid. She pointed it menacingly at the spot where Crowley stood. 

It was then that Crowley decided it had been a little too quiet. With another snap, the gramophone that Aziraphale has kept in tip-top condition since Lord knows when began blaring. 

“Is this… the Charlie Daniels Band?” Max asked. 

Amara continued looking in the corner. Crowley knew she couldn’t see him, because he didn’t want her to, but something about her confident stare made him doubt himself for a moment. He brought his hand up to snap, again, and her eyes followed the movement. 

_ Wait… can she-?  _ Crowley thought, panicked. 

“I  _ can _ , demon,” Amara said as she moved to toss the Holy Water at Crowley, a light so bright, it might as well have been actually blinding filled the bookshop. 

White wings and a thousand eyes now stood between Crowley and Amara, and a voice that felt as ancient as the Earth boomed “L E A V E T H I S P L A C E.” 

“What the FUCK did you do, Amara?” Brian yelled as papers and other various trinkets began swirling around them. 

“I-I-I think... I made it mad.” 

The three were grabbing at each other, unsure of if they should run or stay and look closer. The light didn’t dim as the voice continued. 

“I S A I D T O L E A V E, I H A V E L E T T H I S G O O N L O N G E N O U G H.” 

Brian, Max, and Amara ran out of the shop, screaming at the top of their lungs about angels and demons and smiting, leaving behind their equipment and tearing out into the night as the fiddle played on in the background. 

The light began to dim and Crowley was now left with a very upset looking, no wings, two-eyed Aziraphale. Crowley grinned sheepishly at him and opened his mouth to say something. 

“Don’t,” Aziraphale said with a hand to Crowley’s face. “Unless you are about to say the words ‘You were right, Aziraphale, I should have been more careful the minute I saw that they had Holy Water,’ then I am not interested.” 

Aziraphale walked over to the aisle where the books had been thrown and began picking them up to place back in their designated non-designated spot on the shelf. 

“Angel-” 

“Don’t ‘Angel’ me, you could have  _ died,  _ Crowley.” 

“Let me finish. I was going to say you were right.” 

Aziraphale stopped in the middle of putting one of the books back. 

“Oh.” 

Crowley walked up to Aziraphale, took the book gingerly out of his hold, placed it on the shelf, and took the angel’s face in his hands. 

“I would have been in very serious, very deadly danger, buuuuuuut,” Crowley began. 

Aziraphale gave him a look that said  _ Go on _ . 

“Lucky for me, I have a guardian angel.” 

Aziraphale softened, just a little. “Flattery will only get you so far, demon.” 

Crowley pulled Aziraphale into a tight embrace and nuzzled into the soft, white curls. He knew Aziraphale was mad, but he also knew that he had mostly been scared to lose Crowley, and Crowley felt bad for bringing so much panic to the one person* that he truly loved and cared for the most. 

*Being

“You have to admit, it was kind of funny.” 

Aziraphale pulled away from Crowley to look him in the eyes. There was a small twinkle there. 

“I will admit, the bit with the little girl was indeed slightly humorous,” Aziraphale said, chuckling lightly. 

Crowley pulled away to go poke at one of the static cameras the Ghostologists had left behind. It had, of course, captured approximately nothing of use and, if played back, would only display a black screen for the last hour. 

“It’s a bit of a shame they won’t be able to air the episode,” Aziraphale said, snapping the cameras out of existence. 

“Why’s that? You want more stellar advertising for your shop?” Crowley said, smirking as he put the bookshop back in its pre-Angelic fury-driven mess. 

“No,” Aziraphale moved in to kiss Crowley’s nose. “You would look so handsome on TV.” 

“You don’t even have a TV.” 

“I guess it’s a stunning turn of events that I have the real thing available for my viewing pleasure whenever I want,” Aziraphale said, holding his hand out. 

“What’s this for?” Crowley asked, taking it anyways. 

“Dance with me, I do love this song. Very ‘lit’ as the kids say.” 

“Angel?” 

“Hm?” 

“Please don’t say that, again.” 

Aziraphale laughed as he and Crowley began jumping around* as the fiddle played on and on and on into the darkness of the night. 

*Albeit, a little off-beat

_ Johnny, rosin up your bow and play your fiddle hard _

_ 'Cause hell's broke loose in Georgia, and the devil deals the cards _

**Author's Note:**

> if you liked this, please be sure to check out my other Good Omens fics!!!! comments are always welcome


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